£*!« 


m  m 

H 


•* 


THE  SHEPHERD  LADY. 


Tlie  Poems  in  this  volume  are  not  included  in  any 
collection  of  Miss  Ingelow  s  poetry. 


T 


* 


THE 


SHEPHERD  LADY, 


AND    OTHER    POEMS. 


BY    JEAN    INGELOW, 

AUTHOR       OF       "SONGS       OF       SEVEN." 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS      BROTHERS. 
1876. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE  SHEPHERD  LADY 9 

ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS 16 

LOVE'S  THREAD  OF  GOLD 18 

FAILURE 20 

ONE  MORNING,  OH  !    so  EARLY 24 

THE  DAYS  WITHOUT  ALLOY 26 

THE  LEAVES  OF  LIGN  ALOES 29 

ON  THE  ROCKS  BY  ABERDEEN 30 

FEATHERS  AND  Moss 32 

SWEET  is  CHILDHOOD 33 

THE  GYPSY'S  SELLING  SONG 34 

MY  FAIR  LADY 36 

SLEEP  AND  TIME 37 

MASTER,  QUOTH  THE  AULD  HOUND 38 

LIKE  A  LAVEROCK  IN  THE  LIFT 40 

AT  ONE  AGAIN 42 

I.    Noonday       • 42 

II.     Sunset 45 

III.  The  Dream 48 

IV.  The  Waking 50 

V.    A  Song 52 

VI.    Lovers 55 

VII.    Fathers 58 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


THE  ENGRAVINGS  BY  LINTON,  ANTHONY,  DALZIEL  BROTHERS,  AND  JOHN  ANDREW 
AND  SON  (UNDER  WHOSE  SUPERVISION  THEY  ARE  PRINTED). 


THE   SHEPHERD   LADY.     DESIGNED  BY  ARTHUR  HUGHES. 

PAGE 

"  The  dear  white  lady  in  yon  high  tower." II 

"  Take  now  this  crook,  my  chosen,  my  fere." 13 

' '  On  sunny  slopes,  ah  !  long  the  lady 

Feedeth  her  flock  at  noon." 15 


ABOVE   THE   CLOUDS.     DESIGNED  BY  ARTHUR  HUGHES. 

"Andean  this  be  my  own  world?" 17 

FAILURE.     DESIGNED  BY  MARY  A.  HALLOCK. 

Landscape;    Shipwreck 21 

ORPHEUS.  —  '•  His  deed,  sweetest  in  story." 23 

THE   DAYS   WITHOUT  ALLOY.     DESIGNED  BY  G.  PERKINS. 

"  And  a  ship  comes  up  the  river 
With  a  jolly  gang  of  towers." -27 


ON    THE    ROCKS    BY    ABERDEEN.      DESIGNED  BY    MARY   A. 
HALLOCK. 

"  Then  I  busked  mysel"1  u/i1  speed, 
And  the  neighbors  cried"  What  need?" 31 


List  of  Illustrations. 


SWEET    IS    CHILDHOOD.     DESIGNED  BY  J.  A.  MITCHELL. 

PAGE 

"  Sweet  is  childhood." 33 

"  Kiss  and  part." 33 


THE  GYPSY'S  SELLING  SONG.     DESIGNED  BY  W.  L.  SHEI-PAKD. 

".£'#/  them,  buy  tliem,  take  and  try  iJiein. 

Buy,  maids,  buy.'1'1 3- 


MASTER,   QUOTH   THE  OLD   HOUND.     DESIGNED  BY  F.  O.  C. 
DARLEY. 

"  Court  her,  master,  court  her, 
So  shall  ye  do  wecl."  ................ 


AT   ONE   AGAIN.     DESIGNED  BY  SOL  EYTINGE. 

"His  strawberry  cow  slipped  loose  her  tether."       .......  43 

"  And  his  tired  senses  float  him  over  the  magic  stream"      ....  47 

"  But  one  in  the  garden  of  hops  is  singing"  .........  51 

"  The  lady  sang  in  her  charmed  bower."1   ..........  53 

"  She  turns  her  fare  when  his  own  he  bendeth.^       .......  57 

"  Wander  down  to  the  golden  West."  ...........  59 


*- 


THE    SHEPHERD    LADY. 

I. 

WHO  pipes  upon  the  long  green  hill, 
Where  meadow  grass  is  deep  ? 
The  white  lamb  bleats  but  followeth  on  — 

Follow  the  clean  white  sheep. 
The  dear  white  lady  in  yon  high  tower, 
She  hearkeneth  in  her  sleep. 

All  in  long  grass  the  piper  stands, 

Goodly  and  grave  is  he  ; 
Outside  the  tower,  at  dawn  of  day, 

The  notes  of  his  pipe  ring  free. 
A  thought  from  his  heart  doth  reach  to  hers 

"  Come  down,  O  lady !   to  me." 
9 


Tkc  Shepherd  Lady. 

She  lifts  her  head,  she  dons  her  gown  : 

Ah  !    the  lady  is  fair  ; 
She  ties  the  girdle  on  her  waist, 

And  binds  her  flaxen  hair, 
And  down  she  stealeth,  down  and  down, 

Down  the  turret  stair. 

Behold  him  !     With  the  flock  he  wons 

Along  yon  grassy  lea. 
"  My  shepherd  lord,  my  shepherd  love, 

What  wilt  thou,  then,  with  me? 
My  heart  is  gone  out  of  my  breast, 

And  followeth  on  to  thee." 


The  dear  white  lady  in  yon  high  tower, 
She  hcarkeneth  in  her  sleep i." 


* 

The  Shepherd  Lady. 


II. 

"  The  white  lambs  feed  in  tender  grass : 

With  them  and  thee  to  bide, 
How  good  it  were,"  she  saith  at  noon  ; 

"  Albeit  the  meads  are  wide. 
Oh  !  well  is  me,"  she  saith  when  day 

Draws  on  to  eventide. 

Hark  !  hark !  the  shepherd's  voice.      Oh,  sweet ! 

Her  tears  drop  down  like  rain. 
"  Take  now  this  crook,  my  chosen,  my  fere, 

And  tend  the  flock  full  fain  ; 
Feed  them,  O  lady,  and  lose  not  one, 

Till  I  shall  come  again." 

Right  soft  her  speech  :  "  My  will  is  thine, 

And  my  reward  thy  grace  !  " 
Gone  are  his  footsteps  over  the  hill, 

Withdrawn  his  goodly  face ; 
The  mournful  dusk  begins  to  gather, 

The  daylight  wanes  apace. 


12 


Take  nmv  this  crook.'' 


f 

The  Shepherd  Lady. 


in. 

On  sunny  slopes,  ah  !  long  the  lady 
Feedeth  her  flock  at  noon  ; 

She  leads  it  down  to  drink  at  eve 
Where  the  small  rivulets  croon. 

All  night  her  locks  are  wet  with  dew, 
Her  eyes  outwatch  the  moon. 

Beyond  the  hills  her  voice  is  heard, 
She  sings  when  light  doth  wane  : 

"  My  longing  heart  is  full  of  love, 
Nor  shall  my  watch  be  vain. 

My  shepherd  lord,  I  see  him  not, 
But  he  will  come  again," 


*• 


"  On  sunny  slopes,  ah  !  long  the  lady 
Feedeth  her  flock  at  noon." 


* * 


ABOVE   THE   CLOUDS. 

A    ND  can  this  be  my  own  world  ? 
*•    *-     'Tis  all  gold  and  snow, 
Save  where  scarlet  waves  are  hurled 

Down  yon  gulf  below  ? 
'Tis  thy  world,  'tis  my  world, 

City,  mead,  and  shore, 
For  he  that  hath  his  own  world 

Hath  many  worlds  more. 


16 


* * 


•* 


LOVE'S   THREAD   OF   GOLD. 

IN  the  night  she  told  a  story, 
In  the  night  and  all  night  through, 
While  the  moon  was  in  her  glory, 

And  the  branches  dropped  with  dew. 
'Twas  my  life  she  told,  and  round  it 

Rose  the  years  as  from  a  deep  ; 
In  the  world's  great  heart  she  found  it, 

Cradled  like  a  child  asleep. 
In  the  night  I  saw  her  weaving 

By  the  misty  moonbeam  cold, 
All  the  weft  her  shuttle  cleaving 

With  a  sacred  thread  of  gold. 
Ah  !    she  wept  me  tears  of  sorrow, 

Lulling  tears  so  mystic  sweet ; 
Then  she  wove  my  last  to-morrow, 

And  her  web  lay  at  my  feet. 
18 


•* 


Loves   Thread  of  Gold. 

Of  my  life  she  made  the  story  : 
I  must  weep  —  so  soon  'twas  told! 

But  your  name  did  lend  it  glory, 
And  your  love  its  thread  of  gold  ! 


* 


* 


FAILURE. 

WE  are  much  bound  to  them  that  do  succeed  ; 
But,  in  a  more  pathetic  sense,  are  bound 
To  such  as  fail.     They  all  our  loss  expound  ; 
They  comfort  us  for  work  that  will  not  speed, 
And  life  —  itself  a  failure. 


20 


*— 15  I 


T 


Failure. 

Ay,  his  deed, 

Sweetest  in  story,  who  the  dusk  profound 
Of  Hades  flooded  with  entrancing  sound, 
Music's  own  tears,  was  failure.     Doth  it  read 
Therefore  the  worse  ?     Ah,  no  !    so  much  to  dare, 

He  fronts  the  regnant  Darkness  on  its  throne.  — 
So  much  to  do  ;    impetuous  even  there, 

He  pours  out  love's  disconsolate  sweet  moan  — 
He  wins  ;   but  few  for  that  his  deed  recall  : 
Its  power  is  in  the  look  which  costs  him  all. 


t 


I  <• 


ONE   MORNING,    OH  !    SO    EARLY. 


ONE  morning,  oh  !    so  early,  my  beloved,  my  beloved, 
All    the    birds  were    singing    blithely,  as  if    never  they 

would  cease  ; 

'Twas  a  thrush  sang  in  my  garden,  "  Hear  the  story,  hear  the 
story  !  " 

And  the  lark  sang,  "  Give  us  glory  ! " 
And  the  dove  said,  "  Give  us  peace  !  " 


Then  I  listened,  oh  !    so  early,  my  beloved,  my  beloved, 

To  that  murmur  from  the  woodland  of  the  dove,  my  dear,  the 

dove  ; 

When   the   nightingale   came  after,  "  Give  us  fame  to  sweeten 
duty  !  " 

When  the  wren  sang,  "  Give  us  beauty  ! " 
She  made  answer,  "  Give  us  love  ! " 


24 


f 


* 

One  Morning,  Ok !  So  Early. 

Sweet   is   spring,    and    sweet    the    morning,    my    beloved,    my 

beloved  ; 
Now  for  us  doth  spring,  doth   morning,  wait   upon    the   year's 

increase, 

And  my  prayer  goes  up,  "  Oh,  give  us,  crowned  in  youth  with 
marriage  glory, 

Give  for  all  our  life's  dear  story, 
Give  us  love,  and  give  us  peace  ! " 


25 


W 


THE  DAYS  WITHOUT  ALLOY. 

HEN    I    sit  on  market-days  amid    the   comers  and  the 

goers, 

Oh  !   full  oft  I  have  a  vision  of  the  days  without  alloy, 
And  a  ship  comes  up  the  river  with  a  jolly  gang  of  towers, 
And  a  "  pull'e  haul'e,  pull'e  haul'e,  yoy !    heave,  hoy  !  " 

There  is  busy  talk  around  me,  all  about  mine  ears  it  hummeth, 
But  the  wooden  wharves  I  look  on,  and  a  dancing,  heaving 

buoy, 
For   'tis    tidetime    in    the    river,    and    she    cometh  —  oh,    she 

cometh  ! 
With  a  "  pull'e  haul'e,  pull'e  haul'e,  yoy !   heave,  hoy ! " 

Then    I    hear    the    water    washing,    never   golden    waves   were 

brighter, 

And  I  hear  the  capstan  creaking  —  'tis  a  sound  that  cannot 
cloy. 

26 


"  And  a  ship  comes  up  the  river  with  a  jolly  gang  of  towers.'1'1 


Tlie  Days   Without  Alloy. 

Bring   her   to,  to    ship   her   lading,  brig   or   schooner,  sloop  or 

lighter, 
With  a  "  pull'e  haul'e,  pull'e  haul'e,  yoy  !    heave,  hoy  !  " 

"  Will  ye  step  aboard,  my  dearest  ?   for  the  high  seas  lie  be- 
fore us." 

So  I  sailed  with  him  the  river  in  those  days  without  alloy; 
Sailed   afar,  but    when,  I    wonder,  shall  a  sweeter   sound    float 

o'er  us 
Than  yon  "  pull'e  haul'e,  pull'e  haul'e,  yoy !   heave,  hoy ! " 


THE    LEAVES   OF    LIGN   ALOES. 

DROP,  drop  from  the  leaves  of  lign  aloes, 
O  honey-dew !    drop  from  the  tree. 
Float  up  through  your  clear  river  shallows, 
White  lilies,  beloved  of  the  bee. 

Let  the  people,  O  Queen  !    say,  and  bless  thee, 
Her  bounty  drops  soft  as  the  dew, 

And  spotless  in  honor  confess  thee, 
As  lilies  are  spotless  in  hue. 

On  the  roof  stands  yon  white  stork  awaking, 
His  feathers  flush  rosy  the  while, 

For,  lo  !    from  the  blushing  east  breaking, 
The  sun  sheds  the  bloom  of  his  smile. 

Let  them  boast  of  thy  word,  "  It  is  certain  ; 

We  doubt  it  no  more,"  let  them  say, 
"  Than  to-morrow  that  night's  dusky  curtain 

Shall  roll  back  its  folds  for  the  day." 
29 


ON    THE    ROCKS   BY   ABERDEEN. 

ON  the  rocks  by  Aberdeen, 
Where  the  whislin'  wave  had  been, 
As  I  wandered  and  at  e'en 

Was  eerie  ; 

There  I  saw  thee  sailing  west, 
And  I  ran  with  joy  opprest- 
Ay,  and  took  out  all  my  best, 
My  dearie. 

Then  I  busked  mysel'  wi'  speed, 

And  the  neighbors  cried  "  What  need  ? 

'Tis  a  lass  in  any  weed 

Aye  bonny  !  " 

Now  my  heart,  my  heart  is  sair: 
What's  the  good,  though  I  be  fair, 
For  thou'lt  never  see  me  mair, 

Man  Johnnie  ! 


"  Then  I  busked  myser  wi'  speed, 
And  the  neighbors  cried  "  What  need?'1 


FEATHERS   AND    MOSS. 

THE  marten  flew  to  the  finch's  nest, 
Feathers  and  moss,  and  a  wisp  of  hay  : 
"  The  arrow  it  sped  to  thy  brown  mate's  breast ; 
Low  in  the  broom  is  thy  mate  to-day." 

"  Liest  thou  low,  love  ?   low  in  the  broom  ? 

Feathers  and  moss,  and  a  wisp  of  hay, 
Warm  the  white  eggs  till  I  learn  his  doom." 

She  beateth  her  wings,  and  away,  away. 

"  Ah,  my  sweet  singer,  thy  days  are  told 
(Feathers  and  moss,  and  a  wisp  of  hay) ! 

Thine  eyes  are  dim,  and  the  eggs  grow  cold. 
O  mournful  morrow  !     O  dark  to-day  !  " 

The  finch  flew  back  to  her  cold,  cold  nest, 
Feathers  and  moss,  and  a  wisp  of  hay, 

Mine  is  the  trouble  that  rent  her  breast, 
And  home  is  silent,  and  love  is  clay. 
32 


r 


SWEET  is  childhood  —  childhood's  over, 
Kiss  and  part. 
Sweet  is  youth ;   but  youth's  a  rover  — 

So's  my  heart. 
Sweet  is  rest ;   but  by  all  showing 

Toil  is  nigh. 

We  must  go.     Alas  !    the  going, 
Say  "good-bye." 


t 


*• 


THE   GYPSY'S   SELLING   SONG. 

"TV    /T  Y  good  man  —  he's  an  old,  old  man, 
<!-*-*•      And  my  good  man  got  a  fall, 
To  buy  me  a  bargain  so  fast  he  ran 
When  he  heard  the  gypsies  call : 
"  Buy,  buy  brushes, 
Baskets  wrought  o'  rushes. 
Buy  them,  buy  them,  take  them,  try  them, 
Buy,  dames  all." 

My  old  man,  he  has  money  and  land, 

And  a  young,  young  wife  am  I. 
Let  him  put  the  penny  in  my  white  hand 
When  he  hears  the  gypsies  cry  : 
"  Buy,  buy  laces, 
Veils  to  screen  your  faces. 
Buy  them,  buy  them,  take  and  try  them. 
Buy,  maids,  buy." 


34 


'  //fow,  buy  them,  take  and  try  them. 
Buy,  maids,  buy" 


*- 


MY    FAIR    LADY. 

MY  fair  lady's  a  dear,  dear  lady  — 
I  walked  by  her  side  to  woo. 
In  a  garden  alley,  so  sweet  and  shady, 
She  answered,  "  I  love  not  you, 
John,  John  Brady," 
Quoth  my  dear  lady, 
"  Pray  now,  pray  now,  go  your  way  now, 
Do,  John,  do  !  " 

Yet  my  fair  lady's  my  own,  own  lady, 

For  I  passed  another  day ; 
While  making  her  moan,  she  sat  all  alone, 
And  thus  and  thus  did  she  say  : 
"John,  John  Brady," 
Quoth  my  dear  lady, 
"  Do  now,  do  now,  once  more  woo  now, 
Pray,  John,  pray  !  " 


SLEEP   AND   TIME. 

"  T  T   7AKE,  baillie,  wake !    the  crafts  are  out ; 

Wake  !  "  said  the  knight,  "  be  quick  ! 
For  high  street,  bye  street,  over  the  town 

They  fight  with  poker  and  stick." 
Said  the  squire,  "  A  fight  so  fell  was  ne'er 

In  all  thy  bailliewick." 
What  said  the  old  clock  in  the  tower  ? 
"Tick,  tick,  tick!" 

"  Wake,  daughter,  wake !    the  hour  draws  on  ; 

Wake!"    quoth  the  dame,  "be  quick! 
The  meats  are  set,  the  guests  are  coming, 

The  fiddler  waxing  his  stick." 
She  said,  "The  bridegroom  waiting  and  waiting 

To  see  thy  face  is  sick." 
What  said  the  new  clock  in  her  bower  ? 
"Tick,  tick,  tick  !  " 


37 


MASTER,  QUOTH  THE  AULD  HOUND. 

MASTER,"  quoth  the  auld  hound, 
"  Where  will  ye  go  ? " 
"  Over  moss,  over  muir, 
To  court  my  new  jo." 
"  Master,  though  the  night  be  merk, 
I'se  follow  through  the  snow. 

"  Court  her,  master,  court  her, 

So  shall  ye  do  weel  ; 
But  and  ben  she'll  guide  the  house, 

I'se  get  milk  and  meal. 
Ye'se  get  lilting  while  she  sits 

With  her  rock  and  reel." 

"  For,  oh  !    she  has  a  sweet  tongue, 

And  ecn  that  look  down, 
A  gold  girdle  for  her  waist, 

And  a  purple   gown. 
She  has  a  good  word  forbye 

Fra  a'  folk  in  the  town." 
33 


Court  her,  master,  court  her, 
So  shall  ye  do  weel." 


LIKE  A   LAVEROCK   IN  THE   LIFT. 

T  T'S  we  two,  it's  we  two,  it's  we  two  for  aye, 

•*-      All  the  world  and  we  two,  and  Heaven  be  our  stay. 

Like  a  laverock  in  the  lift,  sing,  O  bonny  bride ! 

All  the  world  was  Adam  once,  with  Eve  by  his  side. 

What's  the  world,  my  lass,  my  love  !  —  what  can  it  do  ? 
I  am  thine,  and  thou  art  mine  ;    life  is  sweet  and  new. 
If  the  world  have  missed  the  mark,  let  it  stand  by, 
For  we  two  have  gotten  leave,  and  once  more  we'll  try. 

Like  a  laverock  in  the  lift,  sing,  O  bonny  bride  ! 
It's  we  two,  it's  we  two,  happy  side  by  side. 
Take  a  kiss  from  me  thy  man  ;    now  the  song  begins  : 
"  All  is  made  afresh  for  us,  and  the  brave  heart  wins." 

When  the  darker  days  come,  and  no  sun  will  shine, 
Thou  shalt  dry  my  tears,  lass,  and  I'll  dry  thine. 
It's  we  two,  it's  we  two,  while  the  world's  away, 
Sitting  by  the  golden  sheaves  on  our  wedding-day. 


40 


T 


AT     ONE     AGAIN. 


* 


4 


AT      ONE      AGAIN. 


I.     NOONDAY. 

TWO  angry  men  —  in  heat  they  sever, 
And  one  goes  home  by  a  harvest  field  :  — 
"  Hope's  nought,"  quoth  he,  "  and  vain  endeavour  ; 
"  I  said  and  say  it,  I  will  not  yield  ! 

"  As  for  this  wrong,  no  art  can  mend  it, 
The  bond  is  shiver'd  that  held  us  twain  ; 

Old  friends  we  be,  but  law  must  end  it, 
Whether  for  loss  or  whether  for  gain. 

42 


g 


'  His  strawberry  cow  slipped  loose  her  tether, 
And  trod  the  best  of  my  barley  down.'''' 


At  One  Again. 

"Yon  stream  is  small  —  full  slow  its  wending; 

But  winning  is  sweet,  but  right  is  fine  ; 
And  shoal  of  trout,  or  willowy  bending  - 

Though  Law  be  costly  —  I'll  prove  them  mine. 

"  His  strawberry  cow  slipped  loose  her  tether, 
And  trod  the  best  of  my  barley  down  ; 

His  little  lasses  at  play  together 

Pluck'd  the  poppies  my  boys  had  grown. 

"  What  then  ?  —  Why  nought !      She  lackM  of  reason  ; 

And  they  —  my  little  ones  match  them  well:  — 
But  this  —  Nay  all  things  have  their  season, 

And  'tis  my  season  to  curb  and  quell." 


44 


II.     SUNSET. 

SO  saith  he,  when  noontide  fervours  flout  him, 
So  thinks,  when  the  West  is  amber  and  red, 
When  he  smells  the  hop-vines  sweet  about  him, 
And  the  clouds  are  rosy  overhead. 

While  slender  and  tall  the  hop-poles  going 
Straight  to  the  West  in  their  leafy  lines, 

Portion  it  out  into  chambers,  glowing, 
And  bask  in  red  day  as  the  sun  declines. 

Between  the  leaves  in  his  latticed  arbour 
He  sees  the  sky,  as  they  flutter  and  turn, 

While  moor'd  like  boats  in  a  golden  harbour" 
The  fleets  of  feathery  cloudlets  burn. 
45 


* 

At  One  Again. 

Withdrawn  in  shadow,  he  thinketh  over 

Harsh  thoughts,  the  fruit-laden  trees  among, 

Till  pheasants  call  their  young  to  cover, 
And  cushats  coo  them  a  nursery  song. 

And  flocks  of  ducks  forsake  their  sedges, 
Wending  home  to  the  wide  barn-door, 

And  loaded  wains  between  the  hedges 
Slowly  creep  to  his  threshing  floor  — 

Slowly  creep.     And  his  tired  senses, 
Float  him  over  the  magic  stream, 

To  a  world  where  Fancy  recompenses 

Vengeful  thoughts,  with  a  troubled  dream  ! 


"  And  his  tired  senses, 
Float  him  over  the  magic  stream. 


T 


III.     THE   DREAM. 

WHAT'S    this?   a  wood  —  What's  that?   one  calleth, 
Calleth  and  cryeth  in  mortal  dread  — 
He  hears  men  strive  —  then  somewhat  falleth  !  — 
"Help  me,  neighbour — I'm  hard  bestead." 

The  dream  is  strong  —  the  voice  he  knoweth  — 
But  when  he  would  run,  his  feet  are  fast, 

And  death  lies  beyond,  and  no  man  goeth 
To  help,  and  he  says  the  time  is  past. 

His  feet  are  held,  and  he  shakes  all  over,  - 

Nay  —  they  are  free  —  he  has  found  the  place  — 

Green  boughs  are  gather'd  —  what  is't  they  cover?  — 
"  I  pray  you,  look  on  the  dead  man's  face  ; 
48 


At  One  Again. 

You  that  stand  by,"  he  saith,  and  cowers  — 
"  Man,  or  Angel,  to  guard  the  dead 

With  shadowy  spear,  and  a  brow  that  lowers, 
And  wing-points  reared  in  the  gloom  o'erhead. 

I  dare  not  look.     He  wronged  me  never. 

Men  say  we  differ' d  ;    they  speak  amiss  : 
This  man  and  I  were  neighbours  ever  — 

I  would  have  ventured  my  life  for  his. 

But  fast  my  feet  were  —  fast  with  tangles  — 
Aye  !  words  —  but  they  were  not  sharp,  I  trow, 

Though  parish  feuds  and  vestry  wrangles  — 
O  pitiful  sight  —  I  see  thee  now  !  — 

If  we  fell  out,  'twas  but  foul  weather, 
After  long  shining  !     O  bitter  cup,  — 

What — dead?  —  why,  man,  we  play'd  together  — 
Art  dead  —  ere  a  friend  can  make  it  up?" 


49 


IV.     THE   WAKING. 

OVER  his  head  the  chafer  hummeth, 
Under  his  feet  shut  daisies  bend : 
Waken,  man  !    the  enemy  cometh, 

Thy  neighbour,  counted  so  long  a  friend. 

He  cannot  waken  —  and  firm,  and  steady, 
The  enemy  comes  with  lowering  brow  ; 

He  looks  for  war,  his  heart  is  ready,     • 
His  thoughts  are  bitter  —  he  will  not  bow. 

He  fronts  the  seat,  —  the  dream  is  flinging 
A  spell  that  his  footsteps  may  not  break,  - 

But  one  in  the  garden  of  hops  is  singing  — 
The  dreamer  hears  it,  and  starts  awake. 
5° 


"  But  one  in  the  garden  of  hops  is  singing — 
The  dreamer  hears  it,  and  starts  awake." 


ft —nil 


V.     A   SONG. 


'I  \   TALKING  apart,  she  thinks  none  listen  ; 

And  now  she  carols,  and  now  she  stops  ; 
And  the  evening  star  begins  to  glisten 
Atween  the  lines  of  blossoming  hops. 


Sweetest  Mercy,  your  mother  taught  you 
All  uses  and  cares  that  to  maids  belong  ; 

Apt  scholar  to  read  and  to  sew  she  thought  you  — 
She  did  not  teach  you  that  tender  song  — 

"  The  lady  sang  in  her  charmed  bower, 
Sheltered  and  safe  under  roses  blown  — 

'  Storm  cannot  touch  me,  hail,  nor  shower, 
Where  all  alone  I  sit,  all  alone. 

52 


The  lady  sang  in  her  charmed  bower, 
Sheltered  and  safe  under  roses  blown." 


At  One  Again. 

My  bower  !     The  fair  Fay  twined  it  round  me ; 

Care  nor  trouble  can  pierce  it  tlirough  ; 
But  once  a  sigh  from  the  warm  world  found  me 

Between  two  leaves  that  were  bent  with  dew. 

And  day  to  night,  and  night  to  morrow, 

Though  soft  as  slumber  tJic  long  hours  wore 

I  looked  for  my  dower  of  love,  of  sorrow  — 
Is  there  no  more  —  no  more  —  no  more  ?  ' 

Give  her  the  sun-sweet  light,  and  duly 
To  walk  in  shadow,  nor  chide  her  part  ; 

Give  her  the  rose,  and  truly,  truly  — 
To  wear  its  thorn  with  a  patient  heart. — 

Misty  as  dreams  the  moonbeam  lyeth 

Chequered  and  faint  on  her  charmed  floor ; 

The  lady  singeth,  the  lady  sigheth  — 

'  Is  there  no  more  —  no  more  —  no  more  ! ' ' 


54 


VI.     LOVERS. 

A   CRASH  of  boughs  !  —  one  through  them  breaking ! 
Mercy  is  startled,  and  fain  would  fly, 
But  e'en  as  she  turns,  her  steps  o'ertaking, 
He  pleads  with  her  —  "Mercy,  it  is  but  I!" 

"Mercy!"    he  touches  her  hand  unbidden — 

"  The  air  is  balmy,  I  pray  you  stay  — 
Mercy  ?  "     Her  downcast  eyes  are  hidden, 

And  never  a  word  she  has  to  say. 

Till  closer  drawn,  her  prison'd  fingers 

He  takes  to  his  lips  with  a  yearning  strong  ; 
And  she  murmurs  low,  that  late  she  lingers, 

Her  mother  will  want  her,  and  think  her  long. 

55 


At  One  Again. 

"  Good  mother  is  she,  then  honour  duly 
The  lightest  wish  in  her  heart  that  stirs  ; 

But  there  is  a  bond  yet  dearer  truly, 
And  there  is  a  love  that  passeth  hers. 

Mercy,  Mercy  !  "     Her  heart  attendeth  — 

Love's  birthday  blush  on  her  brow  lies  sweet  ; 

She  turns  her  face  when  his  own  he  bendeth, 
And  the  lips  of  the  youth  and  the  maiden  meet. 


"She  turns  her  face  ivhen  his  own  he  bendeth, 

And  the  lips  of  the  youth  and  the  maiden  meet," 


T 


X 


VII.     FATHERS. 

1\  /T  OVE  through  the  bowering  hops,  O  lovers, 
•^'A      Wander  down  to  the  golden  West, — 
But  two  stand  mute  in  the  shade  that  covers 
Your  love  and  youth  from  their  souls  opprest. 

A  little  shame  on  their  spirits  stealing, — 
A  little  pride  that  is  loth  to  sue,  — 

A  little  struggle  with  soften'd  feeling, — 
And  a  world  of  fatherly  care  for  you. 

One  says:    "To  this  same  running  water, 
May  be,  Neighbour,  your  claim  is  best." 

And  one  —  "  Your  son  has  kissed  my  daughter : 
Let  the  matters  between  us  —  rest." 
58 


"  Move  through  the  lowering  hops,  O  loners,  — 
Wander  down  to  the  golden  West." 


t 


22375 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
University  of  California,  San  Diego 

DATE  DUE 


JUN14  1974 


C/39 


f/CSD  Libr. 


A     000  963  834     7 


